Promises Better Kept
by aces
Summary: The TARDIS again isn't working and ends up on...the U.S.S. Voyager? /crossover, obviously


Bit o' background: This is, in a way, an alternate reality that doesn't follow the BBC books—the Doc hasn't met Sam or Fitz or Compassion; the TARDIS is as it should be, etc. I gave the Doc different companions instead. And this takes place early on in Voyager's run—I'd say second season or so, but I wasn't paying too much attention to the details. Anyway, I don't own the Doctor or TARDIS (good old BBC), and I don't own _Voyager_ or her crew (good old Paramount), so please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it. Any mistakes I make, I apologize for in advance. 

Updated on February 2, 2001.

Promises Better Kept

"Doctor! You promised!"

"Look, Lace, sometimes it's not always easy—"

"Oh shut up. You always break your promises." She stomped off, her footsteps echoing in the grey stone-carved corridors.

Alan diffidently ventured round the corridor, grateful Lace had left in the opposite direction. He had no wish to be found eavesdropping by the volatile, young teenager. The Doctor was frozen, a stricken look on his face.

"For what it's worth," said Alan quietly from behind him, "she doesn't mean it. She'll regret saying it and apologize twenty minutes from now."

The Doctor turned to face his other companion. "She did too mean it. And she's right. I always break my promises."

Alan frowned uncomfortably. He didn't have an answer to that. "What did she want?" he asked instead.

"To go to Paris, during Louis IVX's reign. I said yes at first, but lately the TARDIS has been acting up. I want to take her someplace to get her repaired."

"Well, can't we go to Paris after that?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't see why not. Lace is just a little…stressed at the moment, I think."

Alan winced sympathetically. She was fairly new to travelling in the TARDIS and finding the dangers involved more difficult than expected. Alan could heartily sympathize with her bewildering situation. "She'll be okay," he said aloud, patting the Doctor on the shoulder. "Just give her some time."

"I know," the Doctor sighed. "Female teenagers are just so…moody." Alan failed to hide a grin as he walked down the corridor, away from the Doctor. "Where are you going?" the Doctor called after him.

Alan twisted his head around to answer without stopping. "To get some tea, of course."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and headed for the console room.

* * *

Lace found him there an hour later, polishing the wood of the console. She slipped into the room self-consciously, guilty for yelling at him for no real reason.

"Sorry about earlier," she said quickly as soon as she joined him at the console.

The Doctor glanced across at her, smiling a little, lines crinkling around his blue eyes. He'd taken off his velvet frock coat and it hung over the back of his favorite easy chair. A long golden-brown curl hung irritatingly close to his eye; he ignored it. "Took you long enough."

"Huh?"  
She'd changed from her jeans and grey sweatshirt to a long yellow dress, the fabric splashed with pink roses. She'd pulled her hair back too, in a neat pollyanna, and she'd put on a matching gold necklace and pair of earrings. The Time Lord wondered why she was so dressed up. "Alan thought you'd be here apologizing in twenty minutes."

Lace scowled to hide her red face. "I'm more stubborn than he thinks."

"Not much," the Doctor gently teased her and was rewarded with a reluctant, wry smile. He gave her a wide grin in return and she blinked, dazzled. "We'll get to Paris soon," he continued, heading around the console to retrieve his coat. "I pro—well, I'll try."

"Thank you," Lace whispered. 

The Time Lord shrugged into his green coat. "What's the occasion?" he asked, nodding to indicate her dress. "You must admit it's not very appropriate for the French royal court."

"This?" Lace glanced down at her dress, again self-conscious. Her youth was sometimes breathtaking; that was one of the reasons the Doctor liked her so much. That, and she was so open to magic. "Just…wanted something nice to wear." She tried to shrug nonchalantly.

The Doctor shrugged. "You look very pretty."

"Thanks." She gave him a shy, pleased smile, oddly startling him. He turned back to the console to examine the instruments. "Should soon be there," he told her.

"Where?" asked Alan as he came into the room. He too had changed, from brown slacks and forest green sweater to one of his favorite three-piece grey suits. Neither Lace nor the Doctor could fathom why he insisted on wearing the expensive, elegant suits, considering how many he lost (and how frequently) to wear and tear, but they had both decided not to ask him about it.

"A lovely planet I know. There's a gentleman there who does a spot of trading in time travel technology, should be able to help us." The Doctor rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Should be quite a reunion, in fact."

Lace and Alan exchanged sardonic glances. They knew about some of the Doctor's "friends."

Lace was about to ask the name of the planet when she was suddenly thrown against one of the metal pillars surrounding the console, badly bruising her shoulder. Alan was luckier, tripping down the steps and falling into an easy chair, while the Doctor managed to hold onto the console. However, a circuit exploded near his hands, startling and singeing him, and he jumped back in pained surprise. The TARDIS was still shaking; he kept falling backward, his arms pinwheeling of their own accord, until he cracked into a bookcase.

"Doctor!" Alan yelled, clambering out of the chair and staggering over to theTime Lord. He helped the Doctor stand up and cross to the console. "What the hell is going on—"

"This time?" Lace finished grimly. She clung to the pillar determinedly as the ship continued shaking. She watched clocks and books and mechanical parts of inventions and other miscellany fly across the room and hoped none of it would hit either her or her companions.

"Hang on," the Doctor warned, a little unnecessarily Alan thought in an aggravated moment. The Time Lord suddenly twisted one dial with one hand and flipped some switches with another, and Alan and Lace were yet again thrown around the room. But the shaking stopped after one last heave.

"Dammit," Lace hissed through clenched teeth. She stayed where she was—among the bookshelves—while Alan crawled back to the console with as much dignity as he could.

The shaking stopped, as did the central column of the console. Alan stood up, smoothed down his suit, and eyed the Doctor reproachfully. "Would you care to explain what that was all about?"

The Doctor looked up carefully, seemingly afraid that if he let his eyes leave the console, the jarring and shaking would start again. His hand hovered near the controls, ready to pounce at the first sign of more turbulence. "I told you she needs an overhaul."

Lace scowled. "We've landed," she pointed out irritably.

"Yes," answered the Doctor, "so we have. Emergency dematerialization. Let's hope it's someplace helpful."

"Why?" Alan asked worriedly.

The Doctor held his gaze for an instant, pale eyes remote and expressionless, then flicked a switch. The whole ceiling of the room wavered, shifted, became someplace else entirely.

Lace's scowl deepened. "Doesn't look very helpful to me," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"No," the Doctor mused, looking around at the snow scape of hills and evergreens. "Still, you never can tell. There's probably a city nearby." He flicked a switch, shifting the scanner back to its default state of pretending to be a regular cathedral-like ceiling, and grinned at his companions. "Shall we go outside and explore?"

Alan sighed. Lace kept scowling but stomped toward the doors. "Aren't you going to change?" the Doctor called after her. She turned her back to him, tapping her foot, waiting impatiently by the main doors.

The Doctor looked over at Alan, who shrugged. He had very little experience of female teenagers himself. The Time Lord sighed and opened the doors. He and Alan followed Lace outside.

They promptly lost sight of her.

* * *

"Tuvok, why is that alarm going off?"

"Captain, it's the intruder alert. There are three unidentified beings in Holodeck One."

"Any crew in there?" was the sharp reply.

"Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Kim are signed up to have this time on the holodeck."

Before the captain could do more than open her mouth to speak again, a voice said, "Paris to the bridge. Harry and I have just found three intruders—"

"We know, Lieutenant," replied the captain. "Escort them to the brig. Do you need a security detail?"

There was a pause, as if the pilot were studying the people in front of him. "No, ma'am," he said finally. "We should be fine."

"Tuvok and I will meet you there. Janeway out."

* * *

Lace was frozen, her feet ached, her teeth and cheeks hurt from teeth chattering too much, she was shivering uncontrollably, and she was homesick beyond all reason for cornfields. Snow was seeping into her flat white shoes, and her skin was the same color as crisp new paper. She wanted to cry but the tears only stung at her eyes. Besides, she was afraid the tears would freeze to her face if she actually let them fall.

And then someone came around from behind a tree, saw her, and instantly held what looked like a futuristic gun on her. She stopped moving (even her teeth stopped chattering) and stared at the gun in horror.

"Stay where you are," the man commanded. He at least was dressed for the weather, including goggles and a mask that obscured his face. He tapped something on his chest, a silver pin, and said, "Kim to Paris."

"Yeah, Harry?" Lace was startled to hear a disembodied voice answer.

"I've just found someone not part of the crew wandering around in here."  
"Yeah? Well, I've found two people, so I win. Bring him over to the entrance, would you?"

"She."

"Oh." That appeared to surprise the other man. "Well, bring her. I'll report to the captain. Paris out."

"I'm not going to do anything," Lace said immediately after the other voice finished. "I don't have any weapons. I'm harmless."

"You might be," said the man who'd called himself Kim. "But we can't take any chances. So if you'd just go that way…" He pointed with his gun, indicating the direction in which he wanted her to walk.

Lace nodded and started walking. She was trying to breathe deeply, but her heart was spasming and her throat felt too constricted for air to get through.

* * *

"Doctor, where the hell did she go?" Alan turned around in all directions, but couldn't even see Lace's footprints in the snow. It was very frustrating.

"Do you really expect me to know Alan?" the Doctor sighed in reply, his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. "She must be frozen," he added worriedly, almost to himself.

"Freeze!" a voice suddenly yelled out, closely followed by a body in bulky cold-weather gear, face obscured by mask and goggles.

"We're trying not to," Alan snapped back, aggrieved. He resignedly put his hands up, as did the Doctor.

"We're harmless," said the Time Lord slowly and distinctly. "We're here by mistake."

"Yeah, you are," said the other voice, still covering them with what looked like a futuristic gun. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the Doctor, this is Alan. There's one other of us—"

"Doc!" Alan squawked.

"We might as well tell him the truth—" the Doctor turned to his companion.

"Kim to Paris." Alan looked around at the sound of the voice but didn't see anyone else nearby.

The man in front of the travelling companions tapped a silver insignia on his chest. "Yeah Harry?"  
"I've just found someone wandering around in here."

The man in front of them seemed to relax ever so slightly and replied jauntily, "Yeah, well, I've just found two people, so I win. Bring him over to the front entrance, would you?"  
"She."

The man paused as if surprised but quickly recovered himself. "Oh. Well, bring her. I'll report to the captain. Paris out." He motioned with the gun, obviously indicating for them to move. They started walking. The man tapped his breast again and said, "Paris to the bridge. Harry and I have just found three intruders—" 

"We know Lieutenant," a female voice cut him off. "Escort them to the brig. Do you need a security detail?"

The man who was supposedly called Paris paused. Alan and the Doctor could feel his gaze on their backs. "No, ma'am, we should be fine."

"Tuvok and I will meet you there. Janeway out."

"You can put the gun down you know," Alan pointed out. "We're not armed. We're harmless—well, I'm harmless anyway."

"Alan," said the Doctor through gritted teeth, "you're not helping."

"We can't all be indestructible Time Lords, Doc. Some of us are merely human."

"Human?" Paris questioned sharply, but before either of the others could answer, two more people appeared amidst the snow and trees.

"Lace!" Alan called in relief. Ignoring the two guns now pointed at him, he hurried over to the young girl, shrugging out of his suit jacket and slinging it around Lace's shoulders. She thankfully wrapped the coat around herself and managed to stop shivering so convulsively. She flashed Alan a grateful smile and joined him and the Doctor.

The other two stared at the time travelers for a moment in consternation. They were a highly unlikely trio of intruders. The girl was quietly scared out of her wits, and the man in the old-fashioned suit was tense, irritable, obviously trying to hide his own fear. The other man—in fancy dress—was the calmest of the three, but there was something…dangerous in his pale eyes.

"Brig?" Kim asked.

"Brig," Paris confirmed.

"Computer, show entrance," said Kim. Lace and Alan were badly startled when a part of the landscape in front of them melted away and a doorway appeared.

"Hologram," the Doctor said in smug self-satisfaction. He walked out the door. Lace and Alan followed a little more hesitantly.

"This way." One of the two pointed with his gun.

The three time travelers exchanged glances, shrugged, and started walking.

"Well, Doctor," said Lace frigidly. "Normal day, isn't it?"

The Doctor winced.

* * *

"We haven't _done _anything!" was the first thing Janeway heard as she and Tuvok entered the brig. She was surprised to note it was a young girl's voice. "We don't belong in here! Let us _go_!"

"Lace—"

"Shut up Doctor," the girl interrupted the other voice. "You're the one who got us into this mess in the first place."

A sigh. "I'm sorry Lace."

Two men, one woman—well, girl. If she were human, she'd probably be in her early teens. She was very short, barely five feet tall, and she wore a long pink and yellow dress with, oddly, a grey suit jacket slung baggily around her shoulders. It managed to totally clash with her dress, making her look like a clown. She had wide, clear brown eyes, her skin was unnaturally white, and her hair was incredibly long, blonde with brown streaks, hanging all the way down her back as if making up for her lack in height. She was standing too close to the barrier for Janeway's own comfort, a desperate look in those wide brown eyes, tension written in every line of her thin, spare body. Janeway wondered if the girl were a dancer.

The younger man's jacketless suit explained the girl's oddly assembled outfit. He still wore the collared shirt, vest (complete with watch chain), and baggy trousers. He had longish brown hair that waved down to his collar and somehow failed to blend in with his otherwise elegant, immaculate appearance. His hair should have been short. He had glittering emerald green eyes that held Janeway's gaze for a long time, surprising Janeway with the intensity of feeling in those unusually-colored orbs. He seemed retrained, holding back a lot of emotion, and Janeway found herself wondering what those emotions were. He leant against one wall with his hands folded casually across his chest, failing to appear relaxed.

"I don't suppose we could have a cup of tea," he said in an elegant British accent, fitting in perfectly with the outfit. He spoke easily, offhandedly, but he was almost tenser than the girl was.

"Come come, Alan," admonished the other man on the wrong side of the force field. "Interrogations first, tea later. You should know the drill by now."

"Yes, but really, it does get so predictable. I thought we could try something different for once."

"Never, Alan," said the other man. He caught Janeway's glance, the coldness in his pale eyes surprising her. She actually felt a shiver of…something. Apprehension? He wore an outfit almost out of one of her historical holoprograms, a velvet frockcoat and cravat, a paisley waistcoat and wing-collared shirt. He had curly golden-brown hair, also falling to his collar like the other man's, and pale skin and pale blue eyes. He was seemingly the most relaxed, sitting cross-legged on the flat bed in the back of the small brig, but Janeway could see the tightness in his shoulders, the thoughts flashing quickly through his mind.

"Report," Janeway said, finally turning to her crew.

Tom and Harry were still in their skiing gear but had at least taken off the masks and goggles. "We found them in the holodeck," said Tom, shrugging. "We have no idea how they got there. Those two were standing near a large blue box—" Janeway noticed out of the corner of her eye the two younger people stiffen—"but how it managed to get in there without sensors detecting it, I have no idea."

Janeway stepped up to the force shield and looked into the girl's eyes. She blushed, looked away, then turned back to the captain's gaze, straightening up, absurd in her long dress and the man's coat. The girl's lips quivered; she looked ready to collapse into a ball and cry but wasn't about to give into her fear in front of all these people.

The captain bit back a smile. She admired the girl's bravado and highly doubted this girl was capable of hurting her ship. Still, the captain had to ask some questions—and the older man was a different story. He seemed more dangerous. "What are your names?"

The man sitting down in fancy dress stood up, gaining Janeway's attention. He moved in front of the girl, gently pushing her back. She scowled at his back, every inch the rebellious teenager, but didn't protest aloud. "I am the Doctor," he stated simply. "These are my companions, Lace Towning and Alan Michaels."

Alan nodded and gave a little wave. "Hullo." Lace sat down on the bed the Doctor had just vacated and kept scowling without speaking.

"Captain," said Paris softly, drawing Janeway's attention. He pointed discreetly to Alan Michaels. "He said something earlier about humans."

Janeway turned back sharply. "You're human?"

"They are," answered the Doctor, puzzled. "I'm not. Why is that surprising? This is a Federation ship, isn't it?"

Lace groaned, no longer rebellious or defiant, merely aggravated. "Why don't you tell us these things, Doctor?"  
"Quite," Alan agreed, sitting down next to Lace. "You always know what's going on, only you never tell us anything."

His two companions glared at him accusingly. He protested, albeit rather weakly, "It's an informed guess. I don't know for sure."

Tuvok had been scanning them with his tricorder while they argued. He snapped it shut loudly, causing the three travelers to quiet their squabbling and give him their attention. "The two sitting down are indeed human," the Vulcan said with a raised eyebrow. "He—the 'Doctor'—is also, as he says, not human. We have no record of his species on any medical file."

Janeway turned back to the intruders. "This _is_ a Federation ship, the _USS Voyager_. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway. But what are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"Where is here?" countered the Doctor.

"And why does it bother you so much that we're human?" Lace added.

"This is the Delta Quadrant," Kim blurted out before Janeway could open her mouth. "There _aren't _any humans out here. Other than us."

Janeway gave him a look. He blushed. "Sorry, Captain."  
"Delta Quadrant?" the Doctor repeated, pacing the small force-fielded alcove. "Delta Quadrant?" He whirled around on the captain. "What year is this?"

"24—."

Lace blinked and shivered inside Alan's coat. Alan crossed his legs and raised an eyebrow. "Never been in this century before," he said lightly.

"What the hell does that mean?" said Paris.

The Doctor waved a dismissive hand, pacing again even more agitatedly. "Don't mind him, he's from the twentieth century."

"_What_?"

The Doctor ground to a halt and stared at Janeway. "Captain? You shouldn't be here. Not on this side of the galaxy, anyway."

"We know that," Janeway answered.

"Yes, much too early," the Doctor continued, almost to himself. "I didn't think the Federation got over here before—well," he coughed and turned back to his friends, giving them a reassuring smile. "At least we know when and where we are now."

"Excuse me," said Janeway. The Doctor turned back to her. "Are you implying you're time travelers?"

Lace gave the captain a look. "Duh," she said. Alan smirked.

They might be harmless, and they might be the first humans Janeway had seen in a long time, but they were also smartasses. "Yes, we are," said the Doctor quietly. "That was our ship on your holodeck. It's in need of repairs. I hope you can help us. I can assure you, we mean you no harm."

"Yeah," said Lace, standing up again and scowling darkly at the assembled Starfleet crew. "Which means let us out of here."

Tuvok opened his mouth, but Janeway stopped him with a raised hand. "How did your ship get through our shields undetected?"

"And how can you travel in that thing? It's not big enough for all of you," Paris added.

The Doctor sighed. "It's a TARDIS. I am a Time Lord, from the planet Gallifrey. My ship is….bigger…than she appears."

"Doctor!" Alan hissed. "Why don't you just give them the key and have done with it?"

"I'm being honest, Alan," the Doctor answered his companion in a normal tone, never taking his eyes away from the crew members in front of him. "I'm trusting them. I'm hoping they'll trust me in return."

"I have hard of these Time Lords," said Tuvok with a raised eyebrow. "A race of powerful beings who stay out of galactic politics."

"Yes, they can be very much the stay-at-home types," answered the irrepressible Doctor with a grin. "But it's not always their way. They've been getting more involved lately."

"And you?" asked Janeway dryly.

"Ah." The Doctor smiled and shrugged bashfully. "I like to get my hands dirty, personally."

Janeway considered the three people in front of her. They were an oddly assorted group, peculiar and eccentric, but not dangerous. At least, they didn't at the moment appear to be. She wasn't one to take too many chances.

"Let them go," she said aloud.

The three inside the shield blinked in surprise. Janeway began wondering how often they found themselves prisoners with no hope of release. Kim and Paris stared at their captain. Tuvok raised his eyebrow yet again. "Captain, may I remind you—"

"It's all right Tuvok. The Doctor trusted us; don't you think we owe him something in return? Besides, they're not armed and have made no threatening gestures toward us the entire time they've been here." Janeway turned back to the group of time travelers and operated the controls to release them. "You'll be assigned temporary ship's quarters and be given a security detail to follow you at all times," she told them. The girl, Lace, was shrugging out of Alan's jacket. She handed it to him—shoved it at him—and was out of the tiny room with more haste than dignity. Alan, and then the Doctor, followed more slowly, Alan putting his coat back on as he left. "If you attempt to go to your ship or lose your security detail, you will be taken back here. Do you understand?"

"He has to go back to the ship to fix it," Alan protested. He seemed to have gained a little confidence upon being released and regaining his suit jacket.

"I want my chief engineer to study it first."

"Won't be able to," said the Doctor calmly. "It's locked."

Janeway paused and leveled a stare at the Doctor. He didn't look away. "Then she will join you, along with security, when you examine your ship, and at least one of your companions will stay on my ship," she said finally. "Agreed?"

A smile flickered across the Doctor's thin, aristocratic face. "I guess trust won't get us very far, Captain Kathryn Janeway."

"I'm just cautious."

The Doctor stuck out his hand. "Agreed, Captain."

"Lieutenant Paris, Ensign Kim, will you escort our guests to their quarters? You can act as…guides while they're here, until your duty shifts begin."

Tom and Harry exchanged long-suffering glances. "Yes, Captain," they chorused. A couple men in security yellow came into the brig. "C'mon guys," said Tom. "Let's get you to your quarters."

Lace, the Doctor, and Alan followed the Starfleet officers to a turbolift. They then headed down a corridor and stopped in front of a door.

"Here we go," said Kim, keying open the doors. "There's two bedrooms off this area," he added as he led them inside. "Through there and there," he pointed.

Lace prowled around the room, exploring in curiosity. She'd never been to the future before. Alan headed into first one bedroom, then the other, then hovered in the common area between the rooms, unsure what to do next. The Doctor immediately seated himself at the computer terminal.

"I'm not sure you should be on there…" Kim started, but the Doctor was already deep into one of the engineering databases. The ensign and lieutenant looked at each other and simultaneously shrugged.

Alan sat down on the couch in the middle of the room. Lace flopped down next to him. "Careful, you'll wrinkle your dress," he said.

"I don't care," was the stubborn reply.

"What's wrong, Lace?"

She paused. "Nothing."

Alan snorted. "No, you're usually this irritable and moody."

Lace rolled her eyes. "Leave off, Alan."

He would have persisted but for the tone of her voice. She really didn't want to talk to him. Alan told himself not to feel insulted and stood up, wandering around the room, idly looking for a drinks machine. He needed tea.

The door chimed. Paris, who'd been leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest and contemplating a very boring day watching these three oddballs, turned around and opened it.

B'Elanna Torres stood on the other side of the door. "The captain said you needed some assistance?" She stepped into the room and stopped short, staring at the strangers.

"The Doctor's ship is stuck on the holodeck," Paris said, pointing discreetly to the Time Lord seated in front of the computer. "The captain wants you and security to go with him and check it out, help him fix it."

"That's impossible," Torres shook her head, her black hair falling into her face. "How could another ship get into the holodeck without our knowing? How could it _fit_?"

Paris raised a placating hand. "We don't know. Why don't you go with him and find out?"

The Doctor decisively turned the computer terminal off and whirled around in his seat, almost spinning out of it. "I do believe you might be able to help us," he said. He focused on Torres. "Ah. Hello. I'm the Doctor. That's Alan over there, no doubt looking for a cup of tea, and that's Lace, looking moody on the couch. I assume you're the chief engineer your Captain Janeway promised me?"

Torres blinked, taking this all in, then finally nodded. "Oh good." The Doctor jumped up and clapped his hands together, heading for the door. "Then let's go."

Alan and Lace promptly followed him. The Doctor had them well trained, Paris thought sardonically. "Hang on a moment," Kim said, stopping the Doctor by placing himself directly in front of the door and the Time Lord, which caused a domino movement with his two companions. Kim steadfastly refused to smile, though Paris found it pretty funny. "The captain said at least one of you has to stay on our ship."

The Doctor, Alan, and Lace all looked at each other. Then the others turned to Lace.

"What?" she said. "Now hang on a minute. Come on, Doctor. I don't want to stay here!"

"Why ever not?" asked the Doctor. "It's a new place, new people. You might like them." The look she gave him caused him to hurry on. "Look, Lace, Alan might be able to help me a bit; he at least can hand me the right tools. And if I leave you behind—a young girl—I'm showing more trust."

"That's chauvinist bull crap," Lace flared, "and you know it."

"Yes, I do. But it's based on intuition and experience. Please?"

Lace scowled but stepped away from the door. She flopped onto the couch again. "Fine."

The Doctor flashed her a relieved smile, but for once she didn't respond. He gave her one last concerned look before heading out the door.

"Hey Starfleet," Torres said, lightly punching Kim's shoulder. "The captain wanted you to come too, take readings."

"Oh? All right." Kim turned to Paris. "Have fun with Lace," he shrugged. Paris rolled his eyes; babysitting a teenaged girl—and a pouty one at that—was _not_ his idea of fun.

"We'll be back soon," Alan promised Lace. She didn't answer. They left.

Paris was left alone in the room with Lace, a lone security guard standing outside. Tom doubted he was needed but wasn't going to dismiss the man.

Lace stared at the floor. "We were supposed to go to Paris," she said. Tom blinked, startled. "Not you," she scowled, turning red, "the city."

"I know what you meant," Paris protested uncomfortably. "It's a lovely city, one of my favorites."

"We were supposed to go in the seventeenth century."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Paris had no idea how to respond to that statement. He didn't have to deal with time travelers very often.

Lace looked up sharply. "Have you guys got more than one of those—holodecks?" Paris nodded, wondering where this was going. "Could we go to the French royal court then? From the right time period?"

"I don't know that we have a program for that," Paris answered slowly. Her face fell. "I do have a program that takes place in Marseilles," he offered and instantly wondered why he did.

"Yeah?" she looked interested.

Poor kid. She was from the same time period as Alan but obviously wasn't as used to travelling around like this as he was. Paris grinned suddenly, glad to have found a way to waste some time and still get in the holodeck. "How do you feel about the game of pool?" he asked.

* * *

"This is impossible," B'Elanna stated for at least the fifth time since entering the TARDIS.

"If it's impossible, how can we be in here, Maquis?" Kim answered patiently, watching the Doctor's legs. The rest of the Time Lord's body was in the console; occasionally the two officers could hear grunts or muttered words. Alan had disappeared shortly after entering the ship and after a muttered conversation with the Doctor.

B'Elanna wandered around the console to the opposite side of where the Doctor worked. She reached out an experimental hand toward an appealing-looking control. "Don't touch that!" the Doctor's voice suddenly yelled out, echoing and distorted from inside the console. Torres snatched her hand back. Kim failed to hide a grin. Since she couldn't scowl at the Time Lord, she turned her glare instead to the young Asian.

He raised his hands. "Not my fault," he said, still grinning.

"This ship is impossible," Torres insisted stubbornly. "Look at these controls! They're so…primitive. It's a magician's cupboard with some flashing lights and tricks, not a time/space vehicle!"

The Doctor slid out from under the console, wiping his hands on a ragged handkerchief. He stood up and began carefully rolling his shirtsleeves down. "Appearances can be deceptive. I'm over a millennia old. This frockcoat is actually from the very end of the twentieth century, not the mid-nineteenth as it appears. Alan there might seem like an interminable Arthur Dent, bent on giving all planets uncivilized enough not to have tea hell, but he's really quite intelligent."

"Oi!" protested Alan. He thought he'd slipped back into the room unnoticed.

"You and your ship shouldn't be on this side of the galaxy, but you are," continued the Doctor, ignoring Alan's interruption. "And you, Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres, shouldn't be part of this crew, but you are. So there you go. This ship _can_ travel through time and space."

Harry fully expected to see steam coming from B'Elanna's ears. He now had a mental image to associate with the phrase 'seething with anger.' "How the hell did you know that?" her voice grated. Kim felt like he should warn the Doctor or something but was afraid to get in B'Elanna's way.

The Doctor smiled at her charmingly. "I have my ways."

Kim thought it was fairly obvious how he knew—Harry did keep calling her Maquis after all. Kim also could have told the Doctor that charm would get him nowhere with Torres. However, she took a deep, calming breath and said, "Let me in there."

"What, you mean in there?" the Doctor pointed to the hole he'd left uncovered in the side of the console.

"Yes," said Torres.

The Doctor shrugged. "If you like. Won't make any sense to you, though." He joined his companion on the other side of the room and started speaking to him in a low voice.

She was seething again. "He said you could look," Kim pointed out quietly. "Use your tricorder; you might get some helpful readings." He unclipped his own tricorder. "I'll scan from the outside, okay?"

As he'd expected, the idea of getting some answers focused B'Elanna and calmed her down. Privately, Kim didn't think either of them would get much information; he believed the Doctor when he said they wouldn't understand the technology involved. Still, Torres couldn't hurt herself or the ship, otherwise the Doctor wouldn't have invited her to look inside, and it gave her something to do. Kim didn't know when he'd started trusting and respecting the Doctor, but he had a feeling it was when he'd stepped into this incredible TARDIS.

Despite doubting he'd find anything, he started scanning the outside of the mushroom-shaped console. B'Elanna hunkered down and slipped the upper half of her body into the hole. The Doctor and Alan had finished speaking by now, and they both watched the officers in visible amusement. Kim was finding himself getting as irritated with the smug time travelers as B'Elanna.

Kim had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Once Paris had taught Lace the basic rules, he found she played a pretty mean game of pool, especially for a beginner. He'd taken her to Sandrines and teasingly forbade her to drink anything alcoholic, knowing full well that the holographic drinks couldn't harm her.

She'd slowly warmed up as they played, becoming less gloomy and more enthusiastic. She was pretty when she smiled, her eyes sparkling in the dim lamplight, and she was an incorrigible tease. She was a mine of information about twentieth century music and theatre as well, but she didn't really know much about cars or B-movies.

She was like a great kid sister. Paris hadn't had this much fun with any of his real sisters in a long time. "Damn you're good," Tom said admiringly as she put yet another ball into the pocket.

Lace shrugged. "I still prefer dancing," she grinned. She'd told him about all the dancing classes she'd taken, not to mention flute and piano lessons, singing lessons, acting lessons…

"All right," said Tom, laying down his cue. "Then let's dance."

"What, here?" she giggled, looking around the bar. "Now?"  
"Why not? Computer, music please."

"Please specify," said the disembodied female voice of the computer.

Paris threw a glance at Lace, leaving the decision up to her. She grinned, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, and named a piece that Paris didn't catch.

The song that began was fast-paced and Latin sounding. "Ohhh no," said Paris, laughing and throwing up his hands to plead. "I can't dance to this!"

"Then I'll teach you," Lace answered reasonably, pulling him into an empty space in the bar and leading him through the fast dance. He suggested something after that, a slower dance, and they moved around the space slowly in comfortable silence.

"Thank you," Lace said shyly after a while. Paris glanced down at her, surprised.

"Hey, just doing my job," he replied lightly and immediately wished he hadn't. He was actually enjoying this bubbly teenager's company; she was even younger-seeming than Harry had been when Paris had met him, and just as enthusiastic and optimistic. But nowhere near as serious. Tom was doing more than just his job. "I'm having fun," he added, struggling to find the right words.

"So am I," answered Lace. "I haven't had much fun the past few days. I've been…homesick."

"We all know how that feels," said Paris. "We haven't seen Earth in a long time."

"I've just missed hanging around people…I can figure out. I mean, the Doc's really cool and fascinating and everything, but he's so…alien. And Alan's wonderful, but he's pretty restrained. And British."

Paris laughed. "I know what you mean. You need some normal company."

Lace laughed too. "Something like that. And today of all days—" she bit off her words and stopped dancing.

"Lace? What is it? What's wrong?" Tom asked in concern.

Lace bit her lip, then looked up into Tom's blue eyes. "It's my birthday," she explained finally. "Or it would be, if I were at home. I'm fifteen today."

"Well, happy birthday," Paris smiled, trying to cheer her up.

Lace shook her head, tears sparkling in her eyes. "It's not. My mom's not here to bake me a cake, my dad's not here to buy me a big, expensive present, my friends aren't here to party with me…It sucks. And the Doctor and Alan don't even know it's my birthday…" she sat down at a nearby table and struggled to control her tears and homesickness.

"Hey…" Paris never knew how to deal with women crying. "It's okay, I promise."

"I wanted to go to Paris for my birthday present," Lace sniffled in explanation. "I thought it might make up for not being at home, you know? But the Doctor had to screw that up too."

"I'm sorry." Paris awkwardly hugged her. She clung to him for a long moment, surprising him, then let him go.

"Not your fault," she sighed. "You said it yourself; you know what it's like to miss your home."

"Yeah, well…" said Paris, shifting uncomfortably. He was probably one of the few crewmembers that was actually glad to be in the Delta Quadrant. "Hey," he said, "wanna dance some more?"

She sniffled and smiled. "Okay."

"But not too fast," he warned. "I'm getting too old for this."

Lace giggled. "How 'bout a fox trot?" she teased.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'd prefer a slow waltz," he joked.

They started dancing again.

* * *

Torres crawled out from under the console, swearing in Klingon. Kim winced when he heard her bump her head and hiss a particularly vicious curse.

"Anything?" he asked. She shook her head. "I didn't get much either," the ensign admitted in a sigh.

"Are you both quite finished?" asked the Doctor. He'd managed to sneak up on them without their noticing.

"Yes," snapped Torres. "How the hell do you expect us to help you? Nothing in there makes sense."

"Don't worry," assured the Doctor. "I think I know exactly what I need. And I think you're just the people to have it."

"Oh?" said Torres sarcastically. "And what is that?"

"I'll tell you later. Right now, I'd like to get back to Lace. I don't want her worrying about us."

"Speaking of Lace, Doc—" Alan stared, joining the group by the console.

"Later Alan, I'm in a hurry." Alan frowned but didn't insist.

They went back to their temporary quarters. "The captain's set a meeting for 1300 hours," said the chief engineer. "She'll expect our reports—yours included, Doctor—then."

"Jolly good," said the Doctor as they entered the quarters. "Lace! We're back!" he called and waited for a reply. "Lace?" he said again when none came.

"The guard wasn't outside," Kim realized. 

Torres slapped her commbadge with more force than necessary. "Computer, locate Lieutenant Paris."

"Lieutenant Paris is in Holodeck Two."

"What?" frowned Kim. "The holodeck again?"

"C'mon," said the Doctor. "Let's go find them."

"Hang on," stopped Torres. She turned to Kim. "Harry, you stay with these two. I have to get back to engineering. Can you handle them?"

"Of course B'Elanna," said Harry. She pulled a face but turned and left.

"May we go now?"

The Doctor stood by the door, patiently agitated, if such a thing were possible. "What's the hurry?" Harry asked. "They're on the holodeck, not in danger. Probably Tom's just trying to keep her entertained."

"I just want to talk to her," said the Doctor.

Kim sighed and tapped his commbadge. "Kim to Paris."

There was a long pause. Kim frowned and was about to tap his badge again when he heard a, "Yeah, Harry?" Tom sounded a little breathless.

Kim's frown deepened. "What are you doing, Tom?"

He could hear a female giggle in the background and a swear word in Tom's distinct accents. "Tom?" he prompted, getting more and more confused (and curious) with each instant.

"Tripping over my own feet," the pilot finally answered sourly. "What do you want Harry?"

"Would you please bring Miss Towning back to her quarters? We're already here, waiting for you."

"We're coming. Paris out."

"Tripping over his own feet?" Kim wondered aloud. 

* * *

Paris brought Lace back. "I was teaching him to tap dance," she explained demurely, her face red from exertion and laughing too much. Tom's was red for entirely different reasons. But on the way back to the quarters, he'd come up with an idea to cheer her up on her birthday.

The time travelers grouped together to talk. Paris was glad to note that Lace seemed much more cheerful now when talking to her friends. Kim told Paris about the staff meeting.

"Right," said Tom, nodding. "Look, I've got a plan…" he drew Harry further away from the time travelers and explained.

"But Tom," Harry said after the other had finished, "what does this have to do with us?"

"Look Harry, she needs cheering up. I like her, she's a good kid, way too young to be living the way she does. We _all_ need a little cheering up, don't you think? And I think this would be perfect."

"Yeah," conceded Kim. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stay after at the meeting with me, would you? We'll plan then."

"Right." The two officers turned back and found the Doctor yet again at the computer terminal. Alan and Lace were sitting on the couch, talking. Kim noticed that Alan was relaxed, smiling, when he talked to the girl, not so restrained. Paris noticed her accent change slightly, becoming almost British, as she teased the young man. They were like an uncle and niece, much favored by each other.

When the Doctor turned back to his companions to speak to them, Paris noticed how Lace paid attention to his every word, watching the Time Lord closely, a dreamy smile on her face despite her earlier irritation with the man. Paris concealed his own smile. He knew all about crushes. He wondered if the Doctor did.

"When's that meeting we're supposed to go to?" the Doctor threw a glance over at Paris and Kim.

"1300 hours," Kim replied, standing up. "We should leave now in fact."

The group trouped over to the turbolift. They walked down another featureless corridor to the meeting room. When they entered, there were already people siting down—the three companions recognized Janeway, Tuvok, and Torres, but there were a few other people seated they didn't know—quite colorful characters, too.

"Doctor, Mr. Michaels, Miss Towning, this is my first officer, Commander Chakotay, and this is Neelix and Kes, valued members of our crew. I believe you know everyone else here. Please be seated."

Janeway looked at Torres and Kim expectantly as soon as everyone sat down. Harry and B'Elanna glanced at each other; the half-Klingon began.

"We scanned the Doctor's ship," she started, "but what few readings we did get were…incomprehensible. The interior dimensions of the ship vastly exceed those of the exterior, and the actual controls look too…primitive to be for real. But when I crawled inside what I would guess to be the main engineering console of the ship, the workings were advanced far beyond anything I have ever seen before." Torres took a deep breath. "In short Captain, I have no idea if the 'Doctor' here's telling the truth about his ship having difficulties or not."

"Harry? Do you have anything to add?"

Harry looked over at the Time Lord and two humans. He appeared to be thinking deeply about what he was going to say. "All that B'Elanna said is true, Captain. But I don't think the Doctor would lie. And I thought I saw damage on the outside of the console—loose wires and blacking, as if there had been an explosion, which would support the Doctor's word."

"Doctor?" Janeway turned to the Time Lord. "What do you have to say?"

"I'm telling you the truth," he said simply. "We were going to a planet to get some parts to repair the old girl when she decided not to wait for me to get her repaired. However, I believe you can help me to at least temporarily move my ship to the planet I want."

"How?"

"If I could just borrow one of your neural gel packs…"

Torres stiffened. "We have a very limited supply of those, _Doctor_. We can't just give them to anyone we come across."

"I just need to _borrow _one, Lieutenant Torres. I would give it back, and then I'd be forever out of your hair. The use of one of your gel packs would at least get us to the planet we were headed for."

"Are you taking into account," asked Lace sweetly as she sat forward in her seat, "the fact that you never get where you want to go?" The others in the room frowned uncomfortably, unsure what she meant by that.

The Doctor scowled. "I can get where I need to go if and when I want to," he replied distinctly. Lace blushed and sat back, angry confusion writ plain on her expressive face. Alan leant over and whispered something in Lace's ear; a wry smile flickered on her face and she appeared to calm down.

Janeway considered the three of them for a long moment. "I would have to know more about you—all of you—and your ship before I allow you the use of one our most-needed supplies," she stated finally. "I'm sorry, you'll have to be our guests for a little longer."

Lace sat forward again. "What do you want to know?" she asked, an odd intensity, a magnetism, emanating from her, from the way she held her body and spoke. "I was a freshman in high school before I left Earth; I've been traveling with the Doctor for a month, a week, and six days; I sing, act, dance, write in a journal 'cos I can't write poetry, I don't eat red meat, I get straight A's in all my classes, I'm learning German, and I just learnt to play pool." Janeway noticed Paris's flush out of the corner of her eye. "What else do you want to know? Want my medical records? My school transcripts? Look it up in one of your fancy historical databases. I'm sure I'm there, reduced to a few lines and dates and maybe even a picture or two if I'm lucky. That's all you need, isn't it? Alan here—you probably could find out when and where he was born, what jobs he held, when he died, how he died, who his parents were, what schooling he had. His favorite drink's tea, I can tell you that, with two sugars, and he always wears three-piece suits from Savile Row, and he hates talking about emotions almost as much as he does feeling them, and he likes to appear more bumbling than he really is. Need any more info? How 'bout the Doc? He already told you he's a Time Lord; did he tell you he's over a thousand years old and this is his eighth body? Did you know he's got more legends and stories about him on more planets than you've ever even heard of? Did you know he likes Puccinni, and the Beatles, and rock opera? Or that he can play the piano and the clarinet and dance? What else would you care to know before you decide to trust us, stop treating us like prisoners, and let us go?"

There was a long pause as Lace sat back, catching her breath. Tuvok's eyebrow was raised so high it was almost off his forehead, and Paris was looking distinctly uncomfortable, sliding down in his chair, almost ready to slide under the table. Torres was for some reason almost smiling, while Kim didn't know where to look. Kes looked sympathetic; Neelix was blinking a lot. The only people who appeared not to react were Chakotay and Janeway.

"I will consider your proposition," Janeway said finally. "Dismissed." Alan led Lace speedily out of the room, despite her protestations. Kim and Paris paused and spoke to the captain for a long time. Chakotay, Neelix, and Torres listened in. Paris was quite forceful in his arguments, and Kim quietly but firmly backed him up.

When they finally left the meeting room, Paris was surprised to find Lace and Alan waiting for him. "She insisted," said the young Englishman gloomily.

"Where's the Doctor?" Kim asked.

"Back at our assigned quarters," was the acerbic reply from Lace. "Don't worry, he's guarded."

"I want to speak with him; I'll talk to you later, Tom," Kim said and walked away.

"Alan, shoo," Lace said. "You make me nervous when you hover like that."

Alan rolled his eyes and wandered down the corridor. Lace turned back to Tom and took a deep breath. "Look, Lieutenant Paris—"

"Please, call me Tom," Paris winced. "That sounds so wrong, coming from a girl I've danced with."

A smile flashed across her face but didn't stay long. "Look, Tom, I'm sorry about that outburst in there. Well, no, I'm not sorry, but it didn't pertain to you—or Ensign Kim, really. He's been nice to us, even though he did point a gun at me." Paris concealed a smile, grave face intact. "But your captain's not trusting us, and that Torres wouldn't believe the Doctor, and…it was frustrating."

Paris felt compelled to defend his captain. "The captain's just trying to protect her ship—and us, her crew. She can't afford to take chances, not when we're isolated, on the wrong side of the galaxy like this. I know it seems like she doesn't trust you, but I know her. She will help you, I promise."

"I hate promises," Lace said bitterly.

Paris winced again, then grinned broadly. "Would it help if I guaranteed it?"  
"I still wouldn't trust you," Lace retorted but she was smiling.

"You know me too well," Paris answered with an even-wider grin.

Lace sobered. "I just wanted you to know I wasn't angry at _you_," she said. "I had a great time in the holodeck with you."

"I did, too. Thanks for trying to teach me to tap dance. Trying being the operative word…"

An irresistible grin blossomed on Lace's face. "Okay. I'll see you later?"

"But of course." Paris illustrated an elaborate bow. Lace giggled and ran after Alan. 

"Robbing the cradle, aren't you?" said B'Elanna sardonically.

Paris flushed and whirled around to face the chief engineer. "I like her. She's a nice girl and a good dancer." He realized that hadn't come out right. "She's like a kid sister!" he floundered.

"Yeah. Right. See you, Paris." Torres walked down the hall, away from Paris.

Paris scowled. "Women. You can't win."

* * *

"What was that all about?" Alan asked, following Lace at a sedate pace while she skipped exuberantly down the corridor.

"Nothing," the girl almost sang.

"We're going the wrong way you know."

"There's gotta be another lift somewhere," Lace answered reasonably.

"All right." Alan decided to humor her. "You're suddenly in a good mood."  
Lace stopped skipping and turned back to confront Alan. He hated it when she stared at him like that; it was like being under a microscope, almost as bad as one of the Doctor's really hard stares. She was remembering how he'd run up to her in the holodeck, shrugging off his jacket and putting it around her shoulders, too concerned about her to worry about getting shot by the Starfleet officers. She didn't think she had that kind of strength, of bravery and courage, to do that. Not even for him, or the Doctor. And they'd been through a lot together the past month or so. At first, Alan hadn't known how to talk to her or treat her, was too awkward around the young teenager, but he'd slowly grown comfortable around her and found her an invaluable friend. Someone he could talk to when he couldn't talk to the Doctor or any of the people they met on their travels. She knew where he was coming from, he thought the phrase was.

"It's been a bad day," she said at last. They'd both almost forgotten what Alan had said to provoke a response.

"Has it? Why?"

Lace shrugged. "Stuff." _You're right, you know_ he'd whispered to her in the meeting after she'd insulted the Doctor's navigational abilities. That single sentence had calmed her down. Only Alan would have known what to say. "Tom helped cheer me up. I wanted to thank him for the holodeck time."

Alan nodded. "C'mon," he said with a smile that relaxed his face, and that few people saw (his face was normally creased in a worried or confused frown). The smile made him look younger. "Let's find the Doc before he starts taking apart this ship to find out how it works."

Lace giggled. "Okay."

* * *

"You go to the mess hall," Paris told Kim outside the time travelers' quarters. They'd just seen Lace and Alan go inside; Paris had stopped Kim in the corridor after he'd left the Doctor's company. "Talk to a few people and it's guaranteed the whole ship'll know about it in an hour. Hell, Neelix has probably already told everyone he's seen there. You know how he is about secrets."

"Where are you going?" Kim asked.

"The holodeck of course," Paris answered in surprise and left his friend in the corridor.

* * *

Janeway sat in her ready room, considering her unexpected passengers. She instinctively trusted them, even more so after the staff meeting. Paris seemed quite attached to the girl already, and Kim obviously respected the Doctor. She trusted her crew's judgement.

Mysterious wasn't a strong enough word for these people however, and that was why Janeway was hesitating over handing over one of the ship's precious gel packs. She would dearly love to see the inside of this TARDIS herself, get a feel for this remarkable-sounding machine. The Doctor, despite seeming open and truthful, was definitely cagey about his ship when she tried to speak to him about it.

Lace was obvious; she didn't have much self-control, especially over her emotions. Janeway hadn't noticed much about Alan; he only seemed old-fashioned (even for the late twentieth century) and concerned about his two friends. The Doctor was…interesting. And not telling her what she wanted to know.

Janeway decided another visit with her guests was in order.

* * *

Lace and Alan were experimenting with the replicator while the Doctor prowled around the rooms. When the door chimed, the Doctor was relieved; it gave him something to do.

The other two were surprised he hadn't already quietly slipped away to explore the rest of the ship. He must really be trying to earn the captain's trust—which implied to Lace that he really needed her help. Which worried the girl no end.

"Yes? Hullo? Oh Captain, how nice to see you. Are you sure you want to come in? Lace might lecture you again." The Doctor smiled charmingly at the captain, blocking her way into the room.

Lace rolled her eyes. "So could the Doctor," she called as she sat down on the couch with her cocoa, pulling her feet underneath her and blowing on the hot chocolate, careful to not let the liquid or whipped cream spill over.

Alan waved his own mug at the captain amiably, leaning against the wall near the replicator. He blew on the mug to cool it down—tea of course.

"Please be careful with the replicator," Janeway said as the Doctor let her pass. She smiled to show it wasn't a reprimand. "We're rationed." She sat down in the chair nearest the door.

"Oh," said Lace in surprise. "I hadn't thought about that. We'll get food from the TAR—" she stopped. "Or not."

"Speaking of your TARDIS, Doctor," Janeway smoothly changed the subject, "I would like to see this wonderful ship of yours. From what Torres and Kim say, it's really quite remarkable."

"It is," said Lace. Alan nodded in agreement, a blissful expression on his face as he drank his tea.

"You want the guided tour?" the Doctor offered. "That's easy enough. Just don't ask for any secrets of time travel."

A polite smile crossed Janeway's face. "Of course not, Doctor." She frowned. "Do you have a name? I feel like I'm talking to the EMH."

The Doctor looked insulted. "I am much more than a hologram," he protested. Lace concealed a grin in her whipped cream.

"So is he," said Janeway. She motioned to the door as she stood up. "Shall we, Doctor?"

The Doctor nodded. "I'll be back soon Alan, Lace. Don't go too crazy while we're gone."

Lace rolled her eyes. "Riiiight, Doc."

"There goes my plans of taking over the ship and forcing them to take us to the nearest pleasure planet they can find," said Alan blandly with a raised eyebrow.

Janeway paused in the doorway to look back at the mild-mannered Englishman. "I hope you're not serious. My crew would stop you before you even got out this door." She left. The Doctor shrugged at his companions and followed.

Lace glanced over at Alan. "Think she was serious?"

"I'm not about to find out."

* * *

"What your friend Lace said in the meeting—is it all true?" Janeway asked as they walked down the corridor to the holodeck.

"To the best of my knowledge," answered the Doctor. "I would rather she hadn't mentioned the bits about rock opera and dancing…"

They walked into the holodeck. The ski program had been deactivated a long time ago; a large, blue box sat discreetly in the corner of the room. Janeway walked up to it and studied its outside, placing a hand on the blue wood. It tingled; she could hear a humming.

She turned around. "Shall we go inside?"

The Doctor unlocked the door and held it politely open for her. She walked inside and stopped in the doorway, giving the Doctor just enough room to bound past her.

The room was large and dark and airy, and she could see large double doors on the opposite end, leading elsewhere. The room was full of all manner of things—candles, clocks, books, a small garden area, computers—and what Janeway assumed to be the main engineering console, the most important part of the ship. It was almost insignificant, lost in the center of the room.

"Not much but I call it home," said the Doctor, fondly patting the console. He frowned and moved around to the next-over panel. He took out a handkerchief and started rubbing at the panel, black soot coming away from it and onto his kerchief.

"What exactly happened?" Janeway questioned.

"My temporary repairs to a certain component of the time element…didn't work. A circuit exploded. If I could just take a small portion of one of your neural gel packs and use it to repair the circuit, I could find my friend who can help me get the proper tools and supplies." The Doctor turned pleading blue eyes on the captain. "I could make it work, and it would in no way damage your ship, Captain."  
Janeway nodded. "You'll have my answer by 2100 hours, Doctor," she said, heading for the main doors again. When they didn't open, she turned back to the Doctor, hands on her hips. He stared at her, but she didn't relent, and he unwillingly flipped a switch. The doors swung open.

Janeway waited until the Doctor walked out in front of her before leaving the TARDIS.

* * *

"Kim to Paris. All set at your end?"

"Yep." Kim could hear voices, laugher, music, the sounds of a real party starting up, on the other end of the signal. "Ready when you are, Harry."

"Coming right up." Kim ruthlessly pulled the grin off his face and keyed open the door.

* * *

"You could at least knock," said Alan, glancing up over his gold-rimmed glasses. He was reading a small, slim hardback book, seated in one of the easy chairs. The glasses, combined with the suit, definitely gave him an air of belonging to a century even earlier than his own, not to mention making him appear older. Lace was sprawled out on the couch, twitching her feet occasionally, staring up at the ceiling.

"Where's the Doctor?" Kim asked as he walked in.

"Meditating, probably," Lace answered acerbically, pulling herself up. "Don't worry; he hasn't run off on you guys. Yet."

Kim shrugged. "Just asking. Can you get him for me?"

Lace shrugged, imitating the ensign exactly. "Guess so." She swung her bare feet to the floor and stood up, padding out of the room, her long skirt and hair trailing after her.

"What do you need, Ensign Kim?" Alan asked when they were alone. The Englishman slipped his book into one inside pocket of his suit jacket, his glasses going into the other.

"I'm supposed to take you, Miss Towning, and the Doctor to meet the captain."

"Oh?" asked Alan alertly (for him anyway). "Has she made her decision then?"  
"I couldn't say." Lace led the Doctor back into the room, ending the conversation.

"Are we going somewhere, Ensign?" asked the Time Lord.

Kim nodded. "Captain Janeway wants to see all of you." He seemed unusually serious—deadpan even. The others couldn't tell what to make of it.

"All right then."  
They left the room. When they stopped in front of a certain door, Lace felt a surreal moment of de ja vu. "The holodeck?"  
Alan and the Doctor exchanged glances. Kim didn't say anything, just keyed the door open.

They walked inside.

"SURPRISE!!!" a massive group of people yelled at Lace. She froze like a rabbit in the proverbial headlights.

"Happy birthday!" a large majority of that same group of people added an instant later, though nowhere near as in unison.

"Holy cow," she said. Alan and the Doctor were staring at her in surprise.

They were in a sunny beach area, by a pool, near a bar. Nobody other than Kim wore his or her uniforms, not even Janeway. "Happy birthday, Lace," she grinned, coming up to the girl. The captain was followed by Chakotay, Neelix, and Kes. Other people were drifting over to the bar or the pool or the holographic musicians on a dance floor behind the pool.

"Happy birthday, Lace," said Harry, giving her a big grin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to get changed." He left the holodeck.

People Lace didn't know were coming up to her and congratulating her on turning fifteen. She nodded and thanked them all dazedly, unable to take it in. She glanced up as another person came up to her and was grateful to see it was someone she knew: Paris.

"I hope you don't mind." He looked a little uncomfortable, a little shame-faced, and a little worried. He wore a pair of shorts and a disastrous Hawaiian shirt. "I couldn't come up with a French royal court, but your dress looked so sunny I thought this might do instead…"

"It's great," Lace suddenly smiled and impulsively hugged him. He hugged her back in surprise and acute embarrassment. "Thank you so much."  
Paris grinned at her and handed her a small box. "Ohhh," she breathed, making him blush again. She quickly opened it. Inside lay a thin gold charm bracelet. "Ohh, thank you! I love it." She hugged him again quickly before slipping the bracelet on. "You rock, Tom Paris," she said, grinning childishly up at him, before running off to show the Doctor and Alan.

"Robbing the cradle, aren't you Tom?" said Harry from behind the pilot.

Tom groaned. "Not you too," he groused and then turned around. Harry had changed into a shirt to rival Tom's in pure garishness.

Harry laughed. "You set yourself up for it, Paris."

"Thank you so much, Harry."

Kim clapped his friend on the back. "Let's get a drink." He led the pilot away.

* * *

"Isn't this cool? Look at what Tom gave me!" Lace ran up to the Doctor and Alan, showing off her bracelet.

"Happy birthday, Lace," Alan said, unsure what else he could say.

The Doctor grinned down at her and pulled her into a bear hug. "Happy birthday, Lace!"

Lace flushed with pleasure, closing her eyes and taking in the feel of velvet and silk and satin against her bare arms. She pulled back and looked expectantly at Alan.

"What, you expect me to compete with that?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

Lace giggled and pulled him down by his tie so she could kiss him on the cheek. "Happy birthday," he repeated, warmly this time. "Why didn't you tell us you were fifteen today?"

Lace shrugged, sobering. "It just didn't seem important in the grand scheme of things."

"You're fifteen today," said the Doctor. "It's your day. In a few months you'll be able to get your driver's permit. You've lived a decade and a half. It's always important, a person's birthday." He looked sad. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you to Paris like you asked."

"Don't worry," Lace smiled. "This is much better. Now, come on!" She grabbed Alan's hand. "Let's _party!_" She dragged him unwillingly onto the dance floor.

The Doctor had to laugh at them.

* * *

The dance floor cleared so Lace could dance properly. They created a piano out of thin air so Alan could play for her after Kim tired of playing his clarinet. A large group stood around Lace in a circle and watched as she and Alan ran through every kind of music and dance style they could think of. The Doctor hung back, watching his companions, glad they had a quiet moment to themselves. Janeway studied the trio, and her decision was strengthened.

Lace was whipping all around, laughing ecstatically, her long hair streaming behind her and her shoes long since kicked off. She danced manically, frantically, and the powerful movements of her small, spare body were inspiring. She seemed indomitable.

Alan was letting his guard down, a rare act for him, not appearing to be the confused time traveler forever in search of the perfect cup of tea. He was laughing almost as hard as Lace as his fingers flew over the keyboard. His jacket and tie had long since disappeared, and his vest and top collar buttons were undone, his sleeves rolled up. He appeared younger than he usually did and was eminently more relaxed than usual.

The Doctor was also relaxed, but he hadn't taken off his shoes or any bits of clothing, nor did he dance or play music. He also, novelty of all novelties, wasn't talking to anyone. He just stood, isolated from the crew and his friends, watching them all. He noticed Chakotay sharing a joke with Janeway, Paris teasing Kim, Torres laughing at the pair of them, Neelix and Kes sharing a quick kiss, an ensign and lieutenant holding hands, how everyone intermingled, weaved their ways through each other, chatting, laughing, fitting together. Only Lace and Alan, the entertainers, and the Doctor, the observer, were outside that closely-knit group. But they were their own group, just as close and important to each other, as these people.

"They're very good," said a voice behind the Doctor. He whirled around, startled that the captain had managed to sneak up on him.

"Yes," replied the Doctor, quickly recovering. "Very good indeed. They often practice together when they get a chance—at least they have the past couple weeks or so—so they've even improved."

"I'll let you use the gel pack, so long as Torres and Kim can supervise you—you don't have to explain anything to them about what you're doing," she added when the Doctor would have protested, "just a formality. Agreed?"  
"Yes," the Doctor smiled, demeanor instantly changing to charm. He shook her hand. "Thank you very much, Captain."

They turned back to watch Lace and Alan and the others. Paris was watching Lace's movements with open delight and admiration, and Kim was unconsciously keeping the beat to Alan's fast-paced music, his hands mimicking the fingerings he would have used were he playing his clarinet. Torres was chatting to a Vulcan, and Chakotay was getting a drink from the bar. Neelix and Kes, as well as the ensign and lieutenant, had slipped away.

"It can wait," the Doctor said, suddenly unwilling to take his companions away from their hols and new friends. "Until tomorrow at least."

"Yes," agreed Janeway, understanding completely. "It can wait."

* * *

Lace stopped dancing abruptly, panting heavily as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes alighted upon Paris and a new gleam entered those clear brown orbs. She ran over to him and pulled him onto the dance floor. "C'mon!" she shouted at him. "Dance with me!"

He looked absolutely petrified. Kim started having hysterics—as did Torres—and Chakotay was grinning evilly. Janeway didn't look very sympathetic either.

"Oh no—" said Tom, his face beet-red.

"Oh, come on, Paris!" said Kim, struggling and failing spectacularly to regain his composure. "You can't disappoint her! She's the birthday girl!"

"Yeah," pouted Lace.

"Besides," Torres added with relish, "you can't disappoint _us_."

An uproar of laughter followed her remark, and Paris's frown turned into a scowl. Lace was looking up at him pleadingly, an amused glint in her eyes, her stance challenging him, and everyone else was eagerly waiting to see how he'd get himself out of this particular mess gracefully.

Paris's scowl deepened. "Oh, all right," he growled, holding his hands out to Lace.

"YES!" she half-shrieked, half-giggled and scampered over to Alan lightly on bare feet. The crew started cheering.

"Thanks a lot," the lieutenant groused. "I'm a pilot, dammit, not a dancer!"

Lace ran back to him and took his hands. She looked up into his blue eyes. "Ready?"

He nodded. 

She glanced over at Alan and nodded to him. He began playing.

It was a slow waltz. Paris began laughing and led Lace into the dance. He swept her around the empty space, her skirt and hair swishing out behind her, a beatific smile on her face.

The song ended; the crew burst into wild applause and catcalls. Paris bowed and kissed Lace's hand; she gave him an impish curtsy in return. Strolling over to Harry, she called loudly and with an irrepressible grin, "Ensign Kim, would you care to be my next dance partner?"

Harry held up his hands, grinning. "I'll sit this one out, thanks anyway." His eyes gained a mischievous twinkle as Paris rejoined him. "I haven't had such a great dance teacher as yourself…"

The pilot elbowed him in the arm. Lace turned away, grinning, and found a tall, dark, handsome, velvet-frockcoated gentleman in her way.

He smiled down at her gently. "May I have this dance?" he asked quietly.

The smile left her face in a rush. She nodded, bit her lip, and waited breathlessly alone in the middle of the floor, her heart beating so loud and fast she was sure the whole ship could hear it, while the Doctor whispered to Alan. Alan beamed, his eyes suddenly alight, and nodded.

The Doctor joined Lace and looked into her eyes. She smiled abruptly, like a rose blossoming, and nodded. The Doctor glanced at Alan, who spoke quietly into the air, and a violin materialized in his hands.

Alan began playing the violin.

This time the piece was "Pachelbel's Canon." The dancers danced slowly, deliberately. It was almost a ballet, their movements were so graceful and elaborate. The song would crescendo, pick up tempo, and the dancers would adjust their moves accordingly. The three seemed able to read each other's minds, so smoothly did they work together. The only sound in the whole holodeck was the violin; the dancers seemed in a separate, ghost world of their own, their eyes locked onto each other, her eyes closed when he lifted her, their faces expressionless and yet conveying much emotion. No one had eyes but for the pair of dancers. She was beautiful, he handsome, and their dance magnificent, powerful, and breathtaking.

And yet, finally, after what seemed an infinity of dance and song and almost overwhelming emotion, the song ended. For a long moment, no one moved, no one breathed. And then they applauded, and cheered, and wiped their eyes, and shouted for almost as long as the dance had been.

Lace breathed heavily, slowly, the forceful emotions from the dance still hitting her; she almost felt like crying. She glanced up at the Doctor, and he smiled, just a tiny smile, at her, lines crinkling around his pale eyes.

She leant up, he bent down, and she kissed him gently on the cheek. "This has been the best birthday of my entire life," she whispered shakily and was mortified to find tears were actually dripping down her face.

He pulled her into a hug, then kissed her forehead before letting her go. "You're welcome," he answered just as softly.

She smiled through her tears and ran over to Alan to race him in a version of "Heart and Soul" on the piano before she became totally overwhelmed.

The party ended about an hour after that; it had been a long day for the time travelers and many, such as Paris and Kim, had early duty shifts the next day. Lace was so tired, Alan had to support her to their quarters. No security guard followed them.

Alan sat Lace down on the couch and then seated himself next to her. She immediately laid down and put her head in his lap and fell asleep. Alan blinked in considerable surprise. He almost expected her to start sucking her thumb. But he tried not to move too much. He felt oddly complimented and touched by her childlike trust.

"Well, Doctor?" asked Alan softly. The Doctor focused his attention on the young man. "What did Janeway say about those neural…things?"

An affectionate smile crossed the Doctor's face. Trust Alan to get to the heart of the technical matters, he thought. "She agrees, with supervision," he answered.

Relief flooded the Briton's face. "Thank god for that," he said fervently and Lace muttered something in her sleep. He immediately quieted. "It really is quite bad, isn't it?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Well, it's certainly not good," the Doctor answered frankly, also in a quiet voice. "I don't think I can move the old girl without that neural gel pack."

Alan looked worried. "What if the captain changes her mind?"

"She won't." The Doctor spoke with certainty.

"I'm surprised you didn't insist on doing this as soon as she agreed," Alan said. The Doctor shifted slightly in his seat, an almost imperceptible movement, but Alan had known the Time Lord for a relatively long time. "Well? What is it, Doctor?"

"We needed a break," the Doctor answered simply. "And you and Lace were enjoying yourselves too much for me to interrupt. Besides, it's her birthday."

Alan smiled. "Thank you, Doctor." He was remembering the dance, and how all his emotions—joy, love, fear, serenity and contentment, passion, excitement, tension—had seemed to pour out of his hands and into the violin strings. He shivered; the experience should have been overwhelming, but the music had been too powerful. He felt physically drained.

The Doctor was watching his companion's facial expressions closely; he smiled. "Go to bed, Alan."

"I think you're right." The human couldn't stifle a yawn. He sat Lace up, then lifted her into his arms and carried her into one bedroom. He laid her down and covered her with a blanket, then went to the other bedroom and collapsed on that bed, almost immediately asleep.

The Doctor stayed in his chair all night and thought.

* * *

The two humans slept late. Alan woke first, but only by a few minutes; when Lace stumbled out of her room she found Alan blearily squinting at a note written in the Doctor's sometimes illegible scrawl. 

"Here, let me," she sighed, snatching the paper from him. "Where are your glasses? You're impossible at reading without them, you know." She quickly scanned the letter. "He's in the holodeck with Torres and Kim," she said slowly, handing Alan back the note and frowning. "They're fixing the TARDIS. The captain's given us permission to get whatever we want from the replicator." Lace absently fingered the new charm bracelet on her wrist, then ran a hand through her long, tangled blonde hair. "Thanks for putting me to bed last night," she added absent-mindedly, wandering over to the replicator.

"You're welcome," Alan said, laying down the letter and following her. "It was nice of the captain to agree to help us, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Lace nodded, obviously not paying attention to what he was saying.

"We always leave, Lace," said Alan.

"I _know_ that, Alan," snapped Lace.

"Yes, but remember who we're leaving this time: these Starfleet people are explorers themselves. They're used to leaving people behind, too."

Lace sighed and turned away to order breakfast.

* * *

Alan was still shrugging on his suit jacket a half-hour later as they left their temporary quarters. He looked over at Lace as she watched the door close behind them. "Isn't Lieutenant Paris on the bridge?" he asked.

"Yes," said Lace. "Let's go home."

"Lace…"

Lace gave Alan a gentle smile. "Don't be silly, Alan. Let's go."

Alan shrugged and walked with her down the corridor to the lift in companionable silence. They reached Holodeck One and went inside.

The first thing Lace noticed was Lieutenant Tom Paris. "Tom?" she walked up to him. He was leaning against the TARDIS, his arms crossed over his chest. When he saw Lace, he straightened up and grinned down at her. She looked in confusion up at him, glancing briefly into the opened TARDIS doors behind him. "Paris, what the hell are you doing here?"

Paris shrugged, still smiling. "I couldn't let my dance teacher leave without a good-bye." He also looked into the TARDIS. "That place…" he said slowly with feeling, "is amazing." He looked down at Lace again. "You must love travelling in there."

Lace nodded and finally smiled at him. "Yeah, I do." She elbowed him and grinned teasingly. "I just bet you'd love to fly her, huh?"  
He shook his head fervently. "No way," he said, also grinning.

Kim, Torres, and the Doctor chose that moment to exit the TARDIS. "Torres to the bridge," said the chief engineer, slapping her commbadge.

"Yes, B'Elanna?" said Janeway's voice. "Finished?"

"Yes, Captain. According to the _Doctor_," Torres glanced over at the Time Lord without rancor, "it went off without a hitch. He and his friends should be able to leave with no problems."

"Very well. Good-bye, Doctor, Mr Michaels, Miss Towning, and good luck."

"I hope you find your way home, Captain," the Doctor said quietly.

He could hear her smile through her words. "We will, Doctor. Perhaps we'll meet again."

The Doctor smiled impishly. "We could. You never can tell. I have no idea what the future holds."

"Ha," said Lace. But quietly.

"Good-bye Doctor, Lace, Alan," said Janeway again.

"Good-bye, Captain," Lace and Alan chorused.

"Good-bye Kathryn," the Doctor said.

"Janeway out," said the captain.

Torres turned to her crewmates. "I've got to get back to engineering." She glanced over at the time travelers, a slight smile on her face. "It was…interesting meeting you," she said. "Happy birthday again, Lace—and thanks for getting Paris to dance. It was very…entertaining." She strode out of the holodeck.

Paris rolled his eyes. Kim shook hands with all three time travelers and received with surprise a kiss on the cheek from Lace. "It was nice meeting you," he said to them all. "…Interesting. Good-bye, Doctor, Lace, Alan." He looked over at Paris. "Don't forget, you're due back on the bridge still."

"I know, Harry," Paris sighed long-sufferingly. Kim grinned and left.

The Doctor and Alan shook hands with the pilot. "Good-bye Lieutenant Paris," said the Doctor. "You'll go far in life, I'm sure."

Paris raised an eyebrow. "O…kay."

"Ignore him," Alan sighed. "At moments he likes to remind himself he's a mysterious, all-knowing, and above all, superior, Time Lord. Lovely meeting you, Lieutenant. Good-bye." Alan ushered the Doctor into the TARDIS, despite the other's protests.

Paris looked up into nowhere and said, "Computer, start Program Paris One." Sandrines popped into existence around them. "Remove all characters," he added hurriedly, and the French bar became deserted.

Paris looked down at Lace. "One last pool game?"

She nodded, smiling slightly. "Sure."

They didn't play a full game, just a few shots. Neither was concentrating; neither played well. They mutually agreed to give up fairly quickly.

They stood for a moment awkwardly. Lace glanced up, fingering the bracelet he'd given her. "One last dance?"

He grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

She laughed briefly and told the computer what music she wanted. It was another slow song. They danced around the room, avoiding pool tables and chairs. Lace closed her eyes, letting Paris lead her into whatever move he wanted.

The song ended, Lace opened her eyes. "I should go," she said, stepping back from him.

"So should I. I've got a ship to pilot."

Lace smiled. "Good-bye Tom. And thank you for the best birthday I've ever had."

Paris leant over and kissed her on the cheek. "You're a great girl, Lace. I'm glad I got to meet you." He grinned. "Keep dancing."

She grinned back, hugged him quickly, and slipped into the TARDIS without another word or look back.

Paris watched the door close behind her, heard the strange sounds, saw the ship dematerialize. He waited until the large blue police box had completely disappeared before he left the holodeck, heading for the bridge.

He did a little dance along the way. When no one was looking.

* * *

Lace swept through the console room without stopping, heading deep into the TARDIS. Alan and the Doctor looked at each other and decided to leave her be.

Neither saw her again until a day or two after that. It was easy to lose yourself in the TARDIS, and Lace often deliberately hid from her companions when she wanted to think. But that was usually after a particularly trying or horrifying time—this had most definitely been neither of those. Alan was worried.

So he went in search of her, and found her in the first place he thought to look.

Sure enough, she was in the old, dusty ballroom. She'd found it soon after joining the TARDIS crew and had cleaned it up a bit, shoving the old chairs and music stands to the sides of the room and installing a fancy stereo she'd found in one of the ship's interminable storerooms. She'd even coerced the Doctor and Alan into helping her dust.

Lace was standing in the middle of the red-carpeted room, waiting for a song to begin on the stereo. Alan hung back, not wishing to interrupt her concentration.

It was a song she often played, one Alan still didn't know the title of. She appeared to have learnt a dance to it in one of her ballet classes, and she began that dance yet again.

Alan clapped politely when it was finished; she looked up and smiled at him, her hands on her hips as she breathed deeply.

"I expected you to throw me out," he said, walking further into the room.

"What? Why? Oh." Lace pulled a frown. "Yeah, my disappearing act. No, I just needed some time to…think."

They both sat down on the floor cross-legged, Alan feeling absurdly like an overgrown eight-year-old. "And?" he prompted.

Lace patted her face with a towel. "And…I dunno. I was just thinking about…stuff." She frowned into the distance. "I was thinking about how mean I can be to the Doc about stuff, but how much I trust him, and how much I trust you…I mean, Tom and them are like that, too, aren't they? They have to completely trust each other."

"Yeees…" Alan agreed, unsure where this was going.

"Well, we're the same way, aren't we?" said Lace. "We might get on each other's nerves, or disagree, or fight or something, but we still trust each other. And things always work out in the end, don't they?"

"Does this have something to with not getting to Paris?"

Lace giggled at him. "Maybe. You're silly. C'mon," she stood up and held out a hand, helping him up. "Let's go."

"Go where?" The confused, concentrating frown still hadn't left Alan's face.

"Find the piano room. I wanna beat you at 'Heart and Soul.'"

"Never," Alan replied stoutly. "You'll never keep up with me, young lady."

"We'll see," Lace grinned.

They walked out of the room arm in arm.


End file.
